Dreams
by AutumnRain171
Summary: AU - living her normal life with her family, June suddenly starts getting these weird but oddly realistic dreams of another life in Gilead. Nick/June
1. Chapter 1

What an odd dream. June brushed the hair off her sweaty forehead and glanced at the clock on the nightstand: half past four. She got off the bed quietly, trying not to wake Luke, and sneaked into the adjacent bathroom. She turned on the night light and looked at herself in the mirror. She was still the same. Blond hair, blue eyes. Silk nightgown. But that dream felt so real. She was wearing a red dress and a huge white bonnet (what a weird thing to wear! she thought). She's never even seen anything like it before. It looked like a costume from a movie or a play. She frowned, trying to remember where she could have possibly seen anything like this, but her mind went blank. She turned on cold water and rinsed her face, trying to get rid of the lingering feeling the dream left. It was hard to describe what that feeling was even. It was like she was suffocating. Trapped. Forced into something she didn't want. Made feel dirty somehow. She washed her hands with soap and turned off the tap. It didn't help. The feeling stayed, but the dream itself was slipping away from her. She couldn't remember the details. She was walking around in her red dress. There were other women dressed the same, and some dressed in green dresses. They went grocery shopping. No, this can't be right. It doesn't make any sense. June turned off the light and returned to bed. It's just a weird dream. She probably won't even remember it when she wakes up next time.

The alarm went off at 8am. The dream was a haze, but the feeling was still there. Luke made breakfast, she woke up Hannah, they ate together and drove her to school. The usual morning routine. June hugged Hannah harder and longer than usual when they dropped her off. Hannah rushed to her friends, totally embarrassed by her mother, and June was left standing by the car, staring absent-mindedly into the distance. What was wrong with her today? Why is the stupid dream affecting her so much?

* * *

It came back a week after. The dream. First she was in a bathtub. Submerged herself in the water and looked at the light through the water. Hannah was there. Or not? She wore the red dress again. But there were other people. A man with a beard, a woman in a green dress. They were very cold and solemn and didn't talk much. She remembered getting onto a large bed between the women's legs and raising her skirt. The man came between her knees and unzipped his trousers. What happened after she couldn't explain even to herself. Why did they do it? Why did she allow it? She woke up feeling dirty again, like she was violated. What kind of a messed up dream is that? What was wrong with her to even have this kind of a dream?

"June?.. June?" the voice sounded a bit concerned, but also annoyed. June looked over at her colleague, Marianne. They were friends. Not like with Moira, but friendly.

"Sorry, what?" she had no idea what the woman as saying to her.

"What is going on with you today?"

"Nothing." she looked over at the manuscript laying on her desk in front of her. How long was she staring at the same page? She couldn't even remember what the book was about. "I just had this weird... dream. Can't get it out of my head."

"Oh wow, a sexy dream?" her friend smiled, more interested now.

"Well..." June wasn't sure how to answer. "Sorta. But not in a good way."

* * *

The dreams continued to come every month. Sometimes it was just about grocery shopping, a small room with a single bed, a closet full of red dresses. They seemed almost the same at first. Then she started to remember other details. Other women. A man. Dark hair, dark eyes. Brooding. Sinister. She didn't tell anyone about the dreams anymore. She didn't know how.

The bearded man didn't change and didn't talk. The woman was silent and sad and June could see desperation in her eyes every time they entered the room together. Their bedroom, it appeared. What was she doing there? Wasn't the woman his wife? It didn't make any sense.

The man with dark eyes started to appear more often as weeks went by. Sometimes he gave her a crooked smile that made her shiver. He seemed dangerous. Like a dark figure on the background. Always there. Always waiting. For what?

* * *

She almost got used to these dreams now. She thought about them a lot during the day though, wondering. Why was she dreaming these things? Who was the bearded man and his wife? Who was the handsome dangerous man? If felt as though she's seen them all before, like it was a deja vu rather than a dream really. Impossible.

That night she had a fight with Luke. Hannah was supposed to go away to the camp for the entire summer. This was all discussed, booked, paid and promised her months ago. But as the date kept getting close, June wanted to hug her daughter tight and never let go. How can she be without her baby for entire two and a half months? Hannah was excited. It was an art camp upstate, three hours drive from their home. Not too far. All her friends were going. There was no reason to back out of it now. Except June's anxiety over letting her go.

So they fought. He was right, of course. "We can't take this away from her." She was dreaming about this since Christmas.

June stormed out of the apartment, shutting the door loud as she left. Like she was a teenager. She couldn't express her feelings. She didn't have any more arguments. So she snapped. There was nothing else for her to do.

She wandered around the neighbourhood, got a decaf from the only coffeeshop that was still open this late and returned home close to midnight. Luke was sleeping. She washed up, slipped into her pyjamas and got into bed next to him. The thoughts kept swirling in her head, not letting her fall asleep. Why was she so worried? What can happen? Eventually, she fell asleep.

And the dream came. It was different this time. They were in a different place. Strange. Like a small studio. A simple kitchenette. A bed. A desk. Some books on a shelf. The woman. And the man with dark eyes. Why was he there? The bearded man was nowhere in sight. In the dream, June was nervious. Somehow, she knew what was about to happen. The man was here to do what the bearded man usually did. Rape her. And she was about to let him.

He felt different. Softer. The women stayed by the door and looked away. June looked him in the eyes as he moved between her legs. He looked apologetic. Like he didn't want to do it. This was new. Was it possible that he was a good man after all? She always felt uneasy and almost scared of him every time she saw him in her dream. Her heart would beat faster and she would wake up sweaty. But this time she saw him differently. His dark eyes, usually piercing her through from across the room or the yard, were gentle. Like he actually cared and knew that was he was doing was wrong. Or is she reading into it?

She jumped wide awake just as he finished inside of her. Her heart was beating fast and she was out of breath, like she was running. Luke turned over in bed as she pressed her sweating palm against her forehead, trying to calm down. Trying not to wake him she got up and went out of the bedroom into the living room. The soft moonlight was seeping through the curtains, so she could see where she was going as she paced the room. She desperately tried to make sense of her dreams but couldn't. The face of the man kept coming up every time she closed her eyes. His black thick eyebrows. His slightly wavy black hair and full lips. The bead of sweat on his temple as he thrusted into her. The sympathetic look on his face as he moved away and zipped up his black trousers. It's like they had a secret that they couldn't reveal to the woman in green dress. Why on Earth was she there?

June couldn't go back to sleep that night. She paced around the living room until dawn, deep in thoughts. Made breakfast, thinking about the whole situation in the dream. The women in red dresses, like her, seemed to be going through the same thing. They had their own assigned women in green dresses and their husbands. They all went through this repetitive ceremonial rape, and then got dressed and went grocery shopping together.

"What kind of a messed up place is this," June muttered under her breath as she set the table for her real-life family.

* * *

They drove Hannah to camp that Friday. The entire three hour drive back was silent. Tired of asking what was wrong, Luke stared at the road as they passed by small suburban towns. June remembered the time they couldn't get enough of each other. Talking all night long. Laughing. Finishing each other's sentences. Felt like it was a century ago. She didn't tell him about the dreams. She felt ashamed, although couldn't quite understand or formulate why. Perhaps, because sometimes the dreams were just about the man with the dark eyes and every time she woke up sweaty and shamefully aroused. They hadn't made love with Luke in months. Was that the reason? Did she simply need some action? But why this strange man, not someone else. Some celebrity she had a crush on.

Next time she dreamt of him they are in the studio apartment again. Alone. She initiated it, took her clothes off in front of him. Took his clothes off. Kisses him. They made love on the same bed as before, but it was completely different. She woke up from the strongest orgasm she has had in months. Or years. This one even actually woke up Luke. Confused, he thought she had a nightmare and tried to console her. She gasped for air, clenching her thighs together, feeling how wet the sheet and her nightgown was under her. Luke went out to get some water from the kitchen. "Calm down", she thought. "You can't let him know what just happened." Cold water helps. They went back to sleep eventually, but it took her a while. She saw the face of that man every time she closed her eyes. The dream was so real, she could almost _smell_ him in her bedroom. Could Luke feel it too? June looked over at her husband, snoring peacefully on the other side of the bed. No way.

* * *

They had coffee with Moira the next day. She couldn't take it anymore, she had to tell someone.

"So I've been having these dreams," she started.

"Sexy dreams?" Moira smirked, lifting her coffee cup off the table. Gosh, why does everyone ask this right away?

"Kinda," June hesitated. "It's like we live in this weird world, where women get raped all the time".

"No kidding," Moira chuckled bitterly.

"No, not that way," June paused. "I mean... that way too, but it's like a different society. They make it like a... a ceremony. And there's also... this guy," she trailed off, unsure how to continue.

"Ok now we're talking," her friend seemed intrigued, watching her face closely. "Who's the guy?"

"He's..." June didn't even notice how she smiled, staring at her coffee cup, the beverage still untouched. But Moira noticed.

"What? Is he the rapist?" she nudged, puzzled.

"Oh, no, no!" June leaned forward to her friend and after a brief hesitation, whispered loudly, "Moira, I had the most intense orgasm last night. I don't know what is happening to me." She clasped her hand to her mouth, eyes wide.

"Woohoo" Moira cheered. "That good? Is it someone you know?"

"No! At least, I don't think so. I've been having these dreams for a while now, but he was always kid of... on the background. Until lately," she looked around their table at the cafe, making sure no one was listening. "I don't know why am I even dreaming this?"

"Why the hell not? The fact that you're married doesn't mean you can't dream about sex with other men!" Moira offered.

"I guess. It just feels so real. Like I am glancing into some kind of parallel reality. I can smell things, touch things. I can actually remember the texture of his hair when I ran my fingers through it in the dream! Do you usually remember such details?"

"No usually, no..." Moira answered thoughtfully. "My dreams are usually very hazey. Or I don't remember them at all," she shrugged.

They sipped their coffees in silence for a while.

"Listen, dreams are weird. Just enjoy it if you can. Or at least, the pleasant parts," Moira suggested.

June smiled wistfully. She wished she could enjoy the good parts without feeling so weird and guilty.

* * *

She didn't remember any dreams for the next few days. Her days became a bit empty without Hannah to take care of and spend time with. They talked on the phone once, everything seemed fine with their little Banana. But she missed her daughter desperately. Luke was busy at work and she started bringing work home, too. She went out with Moira and a few other friends for drinks on Friday and spent a lazy Saturday morning in bed with a book and a cup of tea - something she hasn't done in a while. The book wasn't any good, so she made a mental note to drop by to her favourite used bookstore on her way home from running errants today.

But she didn't make it to the bookstore. Or, she only made it to the window and looked at some of the books displayed there. But then she saw a guy inside. At first, she didn't recognize him. He was staring at the back cover of a history book, deep in thought, his thick eyebrows furrowed. And then it hit her. It was him! The guy from the dream!

She turned away from the window and exhaled loudly. Her heart was beating so fast. There's no way it's him. She must be mistaken. Just a guy who looks alike. How accurately does she even remember him, it was just a dream!

She peaked back through the window, but he was gone. Slightly disappointed, she looked around and saw him walking out the door a few meters away from her. He was holding the book in his hand, white receipt peeking out of the cover. Dressed in black jeans and dark navy button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up exposing his arms. He is even dressed just like in the dream. How weird. June bit her lower lip, curious. Should she follow him? Can she? But why? To see where he goes?

She didn't move though, but continued to watch him walk away. He turned the corner a few blocks away and disappeared from her sight faster than she hoped.

There's no way it's him, she thought on her way home. She totally forgot why she went to the bookstore in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: Hi all! Thanks for continuing reading! This is my first THMT story, plus I am super rusty on writing in general, so any feedback is appreciated. Cheers :)

* * *

She was on autopilot. Going through the motions. Having dinners with Luke. Going to work. Jogging with Moira. Editing a new book. Watching Netflix in the evenings. Having sex with Luke. Thinking about the dreams and the mysterious guy. Sometimes he appeared in her dreams. Sometimes he didn't. She went by the bookstore twice the following week. Once she went in, wandered around the shelves and left, disappointed at not finding anything interesting. Or anyone. She tried to forbid herself from thinking about it. Him. It was silly. Silly dream. Silly coincidence that she saw someone similar-looking. Nothing to dwell on.

The new book she was editing was even worse than that bird research one a few years back. She dumped a pile of papers on her desk at work and sighed heavily. The amount of technical details and terminology was overwhelming and she was annoyed at having to google so much of it. She needed a good dictionary to double check everything. A scientific dictionary, not something you can find online. So she packed the manuscript into her backpack ("How old fashioned of you!" one of her colleagues joked. "Fuck you" thought June as she headed out of the office, slumped under the weight of her heavy load) and headed to the main branch of the public library. It took her forty minutes to find the dictionaries she needed and ten more to find a good spot to sit and work. It was Tuesday and the library was closing a bit later than usual, so she took out a sandwich she packed earlier from her backpack and ate it quietly, so no one notices, as she flipped through the pages of the manuscript, looking for the chapter she was editing back in the office.

"You're not supposed to do that, you know", said a quiet low voice from a desk behind her.

June flinched. She got caught. Well, not if she ignores the law-obiding library nerd. She didn't turn back to look at him, just shrugged and continued reading through the page.

Soft chuckle.

June froze. She heard that chuckle before. She turned around and glanced at the guy sitting behind her. Black hair. Dark eyes piercing through her. She turned back to her desk. No way. Inhale. Exhale. Was is he doing here?

The sound of page turning. Pen clicking. June looked around. They were alone in this part of the library. Boring science books. It was getting dark already, some students packed up and left the floor when she just came in. She spread her fingers, palms down, on the polished surface of the mahogany library desk. Think. Should she answer?

"Do you work here or something?" she asked without looking at him.

Silence. Slowly, she turned around again and looked at him. He was reading his book, as though didn't hear her. He also had a dictionary in front of him, along with a smaller book he was holding. June couldn't read the cover, the light from the green lamp softly landing on his face and the pages of the open book. She gazed at him, mesmerized, and the strongest feeling of deja vu hit her again. His eyebrows, thick eyelashes, cheekbones. His lips were pressed tight together at that moment, but she knew exactly what they look like when he speaks. When she is close to him. Very close. When he grunts. Or moans. Or whispers her name.

Do they have a slight taste of cigarette smoke just like in her dream? Do his cheeks smell of pine aftershave? Would he get goosebumps on the back of his neck when she bites his earlobe gently? Would he close his eyes...

No, they're open. And staring back at her. She looked away, embarrassed at being caught. But there was nothing to look at. The desk. The window. Beige curtains. Some invisible force pulled her gaze back to him. He was still staring at her, perplexed. There was a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, and he was breathing faster than before. He didn't move one muscle, yet somehow, from ten feet away, she could feel the heat radiating from him. This was crazy but June had a feeling that he recognized her, too. From where? Has she met him before? Long time ago, and her stupid brain erased the memory completely? Replaced it with a wicked dream? But he remembered?

She drew air through her parted lips slowly and nodded slightly, holding his gaze. He blinked, as if awaken from a tranсe, and looked down at his desk, shifting in his chair uncomfortably.

Shoot. She totally freaked him out. June turned around in her seat and after a brief hesitation, shoved the manuscript back into her backpack along with the empty sandwich bag. She got up, grabbed the rest of her stuff, including the dictionaries and rushed out of the library hall towards the stairs. She leaned on the wall there and tried to catch her breath. What a creep. What's gotten into her? For a second she seriously considered going back and apologizing to him, like a normal person. "I am sorry, I thought you were someone I knew". What'd be so easy. Albeit untrue. She didn't know him. She did have continuing dreams about being insanely attracted to him that spilled out into real life, but otherwise she knew nothing about him. She sighed, getting angry with herself. She still needed to get some work done.

June walked downstairs to the main floor and checked out the books to bring home. She didn't want to bring work home yet again, but she was too embarrassed to continue working in the library. Technically, she didn't even get anything done yet, except locating the books she thought she needed.

She almost ran home, the heat of embarrassment still burning in her chest. Or was it something else? What was that feeling? So familiar, yet she couldn't place it.

She couldn't work that night, barely able to concentrate on anything. Luckily Luke got home late, when she was already in bed, and asked no questions.

She dreamed of wearing vintage underwear. Some kind of baggy shorts and a light cotton tank. Taking it off. Throwing it on the floor in front of a double bed covered with a plaid throw. Climbing into bed. Heated bodies between the sheets. Quiet whispers. Her fingers running through silky smooth dark hair, so unlike Luke's. It was dark in the room, so June couldn't see her lover, but she knew exactly who he was. The light scent of pine and cigarettes. His breath, barely audible. His hands, running over her body. Eager, but confident and not hurrying.

Once again she woke up, clenching her thighs together, out of breath, with the sweetest post-orgasmic feeling ever. Frustrated, she turned onto the other side and forced herself to go back to sleep. Her mind was racing a mile per minute and she had to concentrate on her breathing to slow it down. Tomorrow she is going back to the library and finishing her work. And if she sees him again she will confront him and maybe that'll help. Just apologize, say he reminds her of someone, and be done with it. Get that weight off her shoulders.

* * *

The next day June was exhausted. Wednesdays are the worst. A bunch of useless meetings at work that should have been emails. She didn't have time to eat a proper lunch. And she was extra tired cause of lack of sleep that night. It took her a good hour or two to fall back asleep after that dream. Should she invest in some sleeping pills? Maybe they'll help...

She grabbed a coffee on her way to the library. Definitely needed one, determined to get some work done this time. The library floor she needed was almost empty again, except for a couple of girls finishing up their term papers. "Good", June thought, getting herself settled at a desk by the window. It was getting dark already and the soft glow of the green lamp was making the place very cosy. She worked, sipping her coffee, in silence, for what felt like an hour, until the lights in the hallway flickered and turned off. June looked at her watch and sighed. The library was closing. She felt better about her progress this time. She made it through most of the manuscript and didn't need the big heavy dictionaries anymore, just one pocket edition she decided she'll keep for now just in case. June packed her stuff in her bag, picked up the library books and headed back towards the section of the library where she picked them up, deciding to return them where they belong.

In dim lighting it was much more difficult to locate the shelves. Was it in the West wing maybe, not East? June was trying to remember, squinting to read the signs on the bookshelves. Military... WWI... WWII... She is definitely in the wrong section.

"Ouch!" She bumped into a portable bookshelf on wheels, distracted by the signs she was trying to read, and hit the side of her head on the metal corner of the nearest bookcase, books flying out of her hands to the floor. "Shit", she whispered, steadying herself and rubbing the sore spot.

"Are you okay?" a voice came from behind her as she leaned down to pick up the books. Low. Familiar. She closed her eyes, freezing on the spot. She heard his quiet footsteps behind her, close. Slowly, she picked up the books and stood up, turning to face him.

"Yeah, I am fine", she breathed out, barely audible. It was the first time they were face to face, five feet between them at most. He was wearing all black again, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows exposing his arms. His face was hard to read. He seemed worried. Puzzled. Concerned. He was frowning again, unmoving. She blinked, unable to look away from his eyes. Suddenly, she remembered another time they were looking at each other like that. He was sitting on a porch reading a book. She was out of breath, like she was running just before. They locked eyes for a brief moment and she retreated, like she was afraid of him. Was he dangerous? Could he harm her now, in real life? June blinked again and looked down at the books she was hugging close to her chest.

"Are you sure?" he took a step closer. Slowly. June looked up and saw him stretching out his arm to touch her temple. He was so close now. She could feel the warmth radiating of his body. His fingertips brushing softly against her skin. It burned for a second and she flinched. "You got a scratch" he stated and cleared his throat, like he was struggling with something too.

June felt lightheaded. The skin on her temple burned, not from the scratch but at the spot where his fingers touched her a second ago. She realized she was holding her breath, so she exhaled and it turned out embarrassingly louder than she expected.

"I don't know", she confessed. He dropped his hand and looked at his shoes, frowning. They were silent for a few heartbeats, and then he looked up and looked her in the eyes.

"Do I know you?" he asked quietly, almost a whisper.

"I don't know", June said again and chuckled internally. "_You tell me_", she thought to herself, unable to look away from his face. She wanted to study every feature. His lips were exactly as she remembered them. His eyes, as dark as the night, had the most puzzled expression she was ever seen on him, but yet it still looked familiar. Without realizing it, she took a small step towards him, and he followed. He smelled like soap and cigarettes. Old books. Pinecones. She closed her eyes for a second, inhaling deeply, as another memory rushed through her. A dim house. His hand, clenching a wet cold cloth with melting ice wrapped in it. The gentle brush of his hand against hers. The electricity between them. June opened her eyes to find him staring at her, as if he was thinking, or remembering, the same thing. And just as June thought it was impossible, his hand touched hers in the exact same manner, minus the cold of the ice.

There was a clatter as the books cascaded out of her arms to the floor. Next thing she knew, his lips were on hers. She swung her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his. His strong arms wrapped around her waist and almost lifted her off the ground, as he turned them both to the side and pressed her body against a wall opposite of the bookcases. June gasped, feeling a rush of arousal at that movement. So familiar, like they've done it before, yet new and so hot. She kissed him harder, almost biting his lower lip, soft, supple and sweet. Her hands buried in his thick and silky hair as she melted into the kiss. He moved one of his hands from her waist up, to her neck and cupped her face. His fingers gently rubbed the side of her cheek as he kissed her deeply. She moved her hands down from his hair to shoulders and felt his back muscles tense as he moved one of his legs and positioned his knee between hers, pinning her to the wall. She turned her head to the side, breaking the kiss, panting, trying to catch her breath and gain any kind of control over her body. She hasn't been this aroused in a long time. A very long time. His lips moved along her jawline to her neck, kissing passionately, and she couldn't suppress a soft moan when he sucked gently on the soft tender spot just under her ear. _"How does he know this?" _June thought for a moment, but the feeling was so good, she didn't dwell on it and allowed herself to relax in the arms of this stranger she somehow knew so well. Her hands ran down his back to the belt of his trousers and lower, stroking the firm curve of his butt. He tensed for a second and she turned her head, catching his lips with hers once again and kissing him eagerly. She could feel he was turned on as well, a lot. The bulge on the front of his pants was pressed against her left thigh and she had to stop herself from running her hand from his backside to the front. What are they doing even? Is she really making out with a stranger in a library, like some horny student?

As if hearing her thoughts, he leaned back, panting slightly, and looked her in the eyes. His lips, slightly parted, were puffy and pink, well-kissed. He frowned again and let go of his hold on her, putting a little bit (just a tiny bit) of space between them. She looked down, trying to collect her thoughts and bit her lower lip. Her mouth felt cold and tingly without his lips on hers. She exhaled slowly and looked up into his eyes. They stared at each other for what felt like a few minutes, he took a slow, unwilling step back, bent down and picked up the books she dropped.

"Thanks" it was all she could force out. Their hands brushed again as he handed her the books and took another step back, still holding her gaze. She felt a sudden rush of warmth, that cozy feeling when you want to hug somebody and never let them go. But he let go, after a fleeting second, took another step back, picked up his shoulder bag from the floor, turned on his heels and walked out from the library hall, through the double doors towards the stairs, leaving June, breathing heavily, against the wall, clutching the books to her chest.


	3. Chapter 3

_"She had never imagined that curiosty was one of the many masks of love ." _  
_―_Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

* * *

The fight was huge. Luke left, banging the door behind him so loud it made June jump. She was crying, he was crying, it was bad. It started out of nowhere, about nothing. Who said what and when and why. Misunderstandings blown way out of proportions. June sat at the dining table, her head in her hands and stared at the shiny surface for a while. How did they get here? How did they drift apart so far that she couldn't see her way back? He used to know exactly what to say to make her feel better, and vise versa. Now anything they said to each other created tension and conflicts. Anything. Even something as simple as what to get for dinner.

It's been a week since she saw the guy at the library. She finished working on the book and took a few days off work. She dreamt about him twice. The dreams were easy to count. How many times per day her mind drifted towards him, that was a more complicated question. With her daughter being away, her marriage falling apart, she needed a distraction. She needed something good, passionate, she needed the butterflies, the excitement, no matter how guilty it made her feel afterwards. June got up from the table, put the dishes into the dishwasher and headed to her bedroom closet. She'll go out. Get a drink by herself. Relax a bit. She put on the first black dress she could find and a pair of heels. Rinsed her face with cold water and after drying it with a soft towel, applied some light make up. Her hair was a mess, but she decided to just go with it, brushing through the locks with her fingers. It'll do.

The night was chilly and she wished she brought a sweater or a jacket with her. The fresh air felt good though, she inhaled deeply as she stepped outside her apartment complex and walked slowly towards downtown. She didn't take a cab or Luke's car, she wanted to walk alone for a little while. Besides, Luke probably took the car wherever he went to cool off. Probably to the park to sit by the lake. Or his friend's. Or his favourite bar up the street. Or his parents'. In any case, June headed in the opposite direction. She thought about them as she walked, her steady footsteps echoing through the quiet streets. She felt like she wasn't the same girl who got him to cheat on his wife. She wasn't the girl who'd put herself on Tinder. He wasn't the same anymore either. The only thing they had in common was Hannah. But did that necessarily mean they couldn't work this out? It sure didn't. But did she want to work it out? That was the question. In this particular moment in time, she didn't want to solve this. Selfish and immature of her, but her heart ached with yearning to resolve the mystery of her dreams. It haunted her. It occupied her mind and thoughts. The red dresses, the ceremonies, the strange men. And most importantly, how on earth did she meet a stranger from her dreams in real life and, even more shockingly, find that he seems to recognize her too. Actually, she didn't have solid proof that he did. She never asked him. But their incredible chemistry that came out of nowhere was impossible to deny.

She found herself wandering around the streets of downtown. Some of them were busier, with bars and restaurants and clubs open, the sounds of music and laughter ripping out of the building every time the entrance door opened and someone stepped out onto the sidewalk. Cars drove by, taxis with flashing lights parked by the popular places and waited for their customers. She turned around the corner onto some quieter street. Walked by the library she was in earlier last week. By the small coffeeshops she frequented. Independent clothing stores with locally made pieces. Her favourite Anthropologie. The used bookstore where she first saw the guy. It suddenly occurred to her that she didn't even know his name. She stopped by the window of the store, remembering how he walked out, a book in hand, down the street and turned right at the corner. She remembered other times she watched him, too. Him digging gravel with a shovel, sweat glistening on his forehead. His eyes, piercing her through the rearview mirror. He was driving and she was on the back seat. She couldn't remember what was happening or where they were going, but she knew something was wrong about the way he looked at her that day. Some dreams were hazey, like Moira said, and she only remembered bits and pieces. If her suspicion was true and he actually recognized her in the library, could it be that he was having these dreams too? Could it be that he knew more?

June turned and looked to the left, biting her lip. Hesitantly, she took a step in the direction where he went back then. She couldn't explain why even to herself, but she took another step and soon was marching down the street, retracing his path. She turned the corner and saw a narrow alley between the old buildings. She never turned here before, always keeping to the main roads where the commercial area was. It was dark, with the only two sources of light being the streetlamp behind her and a dim light in one of the windows on the second floor in the far end of the building. She didn't think in that moment how stupid it was of her to walk into a dark alley around midnight, alone, wearing a black dress and heels. June heard her heart beating in her ears, hard and fast, but it wasn't from fear. She walked further, the sound of her steady steps resonating off the walls of the buildings. Loud. It was so quiet here. But she knew what drew her towards that window with a light. As she approached it, she saw a small staircase leading up. She braced herself, before slowly climbing it, her clammy hands gripping the metal handrail. She stopped in front of the only door upstairs and knocked.

He opened almost immediately and June stepped inside, closing the door behind her. It was warm there, a small living room lit by a dim reading lamp on the desk by the window. He was wearing a plain grey t-shirt and jeans, his hair messy like he just woke up. He didn't look surprised to see her at all, almost like he was expecting her. He took a tiny step back to allow her to come in but then stood in place, waiting for her to say something. She looked around, avoiding his gaze. Suddenly she felt uncomfortable in her provocative dress and heels, like she came here and dressed like that on purpose. His silence too made her uncomfortable, she shivered despite the warmth and hugged herself, but then crossed her arms hastily, not wanting to give away her edginess.

"What do you remember?" his voice sounded coarse, like he hadn't spoken in hours. Or days. June looked at him and relaxed. His face was soft, expectant, but friendly and inviting. She felt her shoulders drop as the tension melted away and she shook her head.

"Not a lot", she whispered. He exhaled and took a few steps backwards into the room, waving his hand slightly, inviting her to sit on the couch. June walked towards it, keeping her eyes on him as he went to the small fridge, took a jar of water and poured some in a glass. She sat down, uncomfortably shifting and pulling the hem of her dress down, but it was hopeless. She leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees to make herself more comfortable. He brought the glass of water and put it in front of her on the low wooden coffee table that looked like he made it himself out of old wood crates. "Red dresses. A woman, a man. You," she continued, staring at the glass. He was quiet, standing in front of the table his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. She looked up at him, slowly observing his face, unmoving, deep in thought. His shirt, stretched out at the collar and on his chest, hugged his pectoral muscles and exposed his collarbone. He wasn't buffed, but lean and fit. More like a long distance runner than a weightlifter. Luke had a complete opposite build, stocky and muscular. "What about you?"

He shrugged, looking down at her knees as she straightened up, curious. June tried pulling the hem of her skirt down again, unsuccessful, and he looked away. They didn't say anything for a while as June studied his profile and wondered whether his silence spoke volumes. He knew. He remembered. A lot, probably, or at least more than she did. He flinched, as if remembering something particularly bad and looked back at her, his dark brown eyes full of sorrow and pain.

"I am sorry", he offered, barely audible. For staring at her knees, or for the things that happened in the dreams? June nodded, her desire to know peaking. She wanted to understand how this worked and how this could be possible.

"Do you think we are having the same dreams?" she asked, unable to sit still. She got up when he didn't answer right away, and paced the floor in front of the couch. He moved away and leaned on his small dining table, biting his lower lip.

"No," he said eventually. June stopped in her track and looked at him, dumbfounded. This didn't make sense.

"What..." she started, "What dreams are you having then?" she asked.

He ribbed his temple with his thumb, choosing his words carefully.

"I think you are having dreams about you, and I have dreams about me, but we are in the same universe. Just different points of view," he explained. June let out a breath she was holding. This made sense. Same dreams would be weird, but simpler in a way. This was far more complex.

"That means you see and know what you know in that universe. Sometimes we see each other, sometimes not. We both have other interactions with other people there."

June nodded. She did have a lot of interactions with other people. Not pleasant ones, mostly. The only pleasant thing about the whole dream sequence was him. She looked up, wondering if it was the same for him. He was looking at her, pensive, quiet.

"You are the only light in my dreams, June" he said finally, looking her straight in the eyes. She shivered, but held his gaze, unable to move or even breathe properly. He knew her name. He shared the feeling she had about him. She didn't care to name that feeling, but it didn't matter in the moment. What mattered was that her suspicions were correct. They were going through this together. She came closer and leaned on the other side of the dining table, watching him closely. He looked down, hesitant.

"What do you remember?" he asked again. "About me?"

June snorted. "I don't even know your name" she said. "You don't tell me anything."

He continued to study his feet, but his shoulders seem to have relaxed, as if he was relieved. She walked around the table to his side, tracing the wood pattern on it's surface with her fingertips, and stood in front of him, looking expectantly.

"My name is Nick Blaine," he said after a brief pause and looked her in the eyes. "I am from Michigan".

And suddenly she remembered. They were in the kitchen, soft light seeping through the curtains. She was crying.

_You know we are being stupid. _

_You can end up on the wall._

_At least someone will remember me._

June closed her eyes, feeling the memory envelop her and connect with other bits and pieces. They went somewhere with the bearded man. There was sex, cold and emotionless, she remembered swallowing her tears pretending she is enjoying herself. She frowned as she sorted through these memories trying to place them. They drove there together, the three of them, but then Nick disappeared. He was a driver. Suddenly she felt his real life presence close to her and his hand gently touched hers. She opened her eyes and found him inches away from her face, his eyes full of sympathy. He rubbed her hand and pressed his forehead against hers, moving closer.

"I am sorry" he said again, "I couldn't stop him."

She nodded, her chin quivering slightly as she remembered the details of this trip. His arms were around her, hugging tightly as she nuzzled into his shoulder, unable to hold back tears. A wave of memories hit her like a tornado. Women being tortured and mutilated. Herself being raped. Women crying for their babies being taken away. And suddenly Hannah was there, ripped out of her arms, crying for her. Taken away.

"No, no!" June cried, pushing Nick away. "Hannah!"

"Shh" as if he knew what was coming, he hugged her tighter, holding her hand pressed to his chest and she struggled, overcome with emotions. "Hannah is okay, she is alive" he said, trying to sound reassuring, "She is alright".

June pressed her forehead to his chest, gripping his shirt and panting. She wasn't ready for this. Violence against her was one thing, but her daughter taken away from her?!

"What else?" she asked after a little while, lifting her head to look him in the eyes. He sighed and looked away, avoiding her gaze. "What about Luke?"

"He's fine", Nick answered, returning his eyes to hers. "I am sorry I triggered these memories", he said, his voice low and coarse again. "I think it's enough".

June nodded, stepping away from him. She wiped the tears off her wet face with her hand and cleared her throat.

"I am sorry too", she pointed at his shirt, wet with her tears. He shrugged, examining her face.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I... I should go", June stammered. She straightened her dress, looking down at herself, unable to believe that she is still dressed like she is going to a bar or a party. Why did she even think it was a good idea to wear this?

"Can I... can I walk you home?" he asked, glancing briefly at the wedding band on her ring finger.

"I'll get a cab around the corner", June pointed towards a random direction she supposed the Main Street was, looking away. She felt uncomfortable again, embarrassed by her outburst and overwhelmed by the memories of the dreams her subconscious suppressed. She rubbed her eyes with her fingers and shook her head. It was late. She needed to be alone and think about all this.

She dropped one final look at him standing by the table and looking at her attentively, turned around and opened the door. The fresh air blew in her face and she shivered from the cold. He didn't say anything or offer her anything as she stepped out and closed the door behind her. She didn't see him stumbling to the dining chair and sitting down, burying his face in his hands as the door closed behind her. She walked down the stairs and around the corner of the building, got a cab right away and got home within minutes. She almost hoped Luke would be there, bringing some kind of normalcy back into her life, but he wasn't. She called his cell and left a blank voicemail. He'll know what it means.

I'm sorry. Come back. I love you.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hi June. Um... It's Annie. _

_Luke is here. Well, he doesn't know that I am calling you but he is staying at my place._

_I'm sorry. You need to understand that what we have, it's special. We're soulmates. He's the one for me and I am the one for him. _

_He really loved you. But you have to agree, it was just physical. And... I know you loved him too._

_Please let him go this time. For good._

_He'll pick up his stuff next week._

_Good luck, June._

Click.

_To replay this message, press 1. To -_

Click.

June hung up the phone receiver, exhaling audibly. Well, that happened. She was sure he was at his folks' place when he didn't come home the next day.

She turned around and leaned on the kitchen counter, chewing on her lip. She should be more sad. She should be devastated. Soulmates? What kind of bullshit is this? So they have a fight and he goes straight to his ex-wife he cheated on WITH her? The wife he said so many nasty things about? Wow. If she thought he wasn't the same man she fell in love with before this was obviously an understatement. Or was it her who simply looked at him differently? And only now, almost 10 years later, saw his true colours? Wow. You'd think you know a person... And what is this "just physical"? What does this woman even know? Maybe it started as just physical, but they were married, for God's sake, and raised a daughter together!

June was ranting internally the entire way to work. Sometimes she was just angry. Sometimes sad. Did she just waste her young adult life with a man for whom she was always a second best? Was he thinking about Annie the whole time they were together? No way. She thought they were happy. It was hard at first when Hannah was born, but they really were a happy little family. So much laughter, tears of joy. Whispers, little funny secrets, inside jokes. Giggles and tickles. Weekend getaways. Thanksgiving turkey with extended families. Does this all mean nothing now? And what about Hannah?

June stopped for a moment to bite her lip and stop the tears. This is not the time. She was saying this to herself whole day at work. This is not the time.

She took a few days off work again and stayed home. Luke picked up his stuff. They barely talked. She cuddled up in her fuzzy blanket on the couch, eating ice-cream and watching Netflix for two days straight. She cried, she laughed. "We'll talk about Hannah and everything next week", he said to her before he left.

There was nothing she could do to save her marriage, that's for sure. She reached this conclusion after a day of thinking it over. And more importantly, there was nothing she wanted to do at this point. There was no going back. They just needed to make sure it doesn't affect Hannah too much.

On the third say she heard a knock on her door. She considered ignoring it, but who could it be? Must be Moira. Luke probably told her. June got off the couch, candy wrappers falling on the floor from her knees. She was wearing the same sweats and a light blue oversized t-shirt she put on three days ago. She didn't look in the mirror or brush her hair. And as she got to the door and unlocked it, she suddenly remembered that Moira was away that week for a work trip. So it couldn't be her.

She swung the door open and gasped as she saw who was behind it. He was looking down the hallway when the door opened, as if considering an escape, and looked as surprised to see her as she was. For a little while none of them said anything. Then Nick cleared his throat.

"Hi", his voice sounded raspy, unused. He was wearing the same dark clothes as usual, jamming his hands inside his front pockets uncomfortably.

June opened the door a little wider and stepped back, inviting him in. He hesitated on the doorstep, but came in and looked around briefly. Her apartment was a mess. Half-empty mess without Luke's stuff. She looked around, unable to find anything to say in her excuse. Sorry, my husband just left me? She didn't know how to say it, what to say... tears burned her eyes and she covered her face with her hand, looking at her feet. Within a second his arms were around her, wrapping her in a big hug. She buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, grasping his shirt. Nick managed to reach the door with one hand and shut it behind them, whispering "It's ok, it's ok" to her soothingly.

It was like a deja vu again. From the dreams, or from the night a few days ago when she sobbed into his shirt, or both. Truth be told, with everything that happened, she didn't have a chance to think over their last encounter and the memories it triggered. The dreams conveniently hit pause, too. It was weird having him here, in the apartment she shared with Luke before, but it felt nice to have someone so warm and familiar to rely on. He wasn't just a stranger from the dreams, he was a friendly shoulder to cry on, too. So she did just that, for a little while. He waited patiently for her to calm down, gently petting her hair.

"I'll... wash up a bit", she said, moving away from him after a few minutes. "Sorry".

He just nodded and moved to the couch, as she waved towards it, inviting him to sit. She went to the bathroom and turned on the water, looking at herself in the mirror. What a mess. Her eyes were puffy, nose red and dirty hair a total bird nest. She got in the shower, hoping he wouldn't mind waiting a bit. Shower felt great. She should have done this earlier.

Nick was in exactly the same spot she left him fifteen minutes ago when she returned to the living room in clean clothes and somewhat more put together.

"Sorry", she said again and sat next to him in the couch, turning off the TV. "Thank you for waiting"

He shrugged.

"Feeling better?"

"Oh yes", she blew out a laugh, "How did you find me?"

"I... I wasn't really looking. My brother, um..." he hesitated, "used to live in this building".

June listened quietly, waiting for him to continue.

"I was just returning the key", he finished. June didn't press further, although the story was obviously incomplete. He wasn't comfortable sharing and she didn't want to push.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked instead. "Or, actually, I was going to order some food if you're hungry. I know I am."

So they ordered food. Sitting at her dining table, they ate chinese noodles, talking about nothing in particular.

"We've never done this", June said suddenly, referring to the dreams.

"No, we haven't", Nick confirmed. They chewed in silence for a little while, both thinking.

"What else have we never done?" June asked eventually. "You remember so much more than me."

Nick was quiet for a little while, contemplating his answer.

"We've never been out or on a date, that's certain", he let out a bitter laugh. June nodded.

"We've never talked about our past," she half-stated, half-asked, searching his face for confirmation. He looked down at his plate, nodding slightly.

"We've never played a board game," he said after a minute, trying to change the direction of the conversation. June laughed.

"I've played enough with the Commander," she noted. Nick looked up, surprised.

"What? When?"

"Every time he called me to his office after hours."

Nick let out a sigh.

"Well that's a relief," he said and she caught a glimpse of a smile on his face. "I was very worried about you... in the dream, I mean," he clarified.

"It started pretty innocent...," June remembered. "He brought me magazines to read. Warmed me up for what's to come, I guess."

They finished their meal in silence. June got up from the table to put away the empty noodle boxes when Nick cleared his throat, hesitating.

"Do you remember..." he started. "Do you remember what Serena made us do?"

June tossed the garbage into the bin and grabbed a towel to wipe her hands.

"I do, but...", she put the towel back on the kitchen counter and turned to face Nick. "I don't know why you agreed to it."

He looked down at his hands, frowning.

"I asked myself the same question over and over again," he started. "I remember clearly that I couldn't say no, I felt trapped. She...", he swallowed, like there was a lump in his throat. "She asked me this before. For herself."

June waited for him to continue, but he was quiet, still looking down and avoiding her eyes.

"You mean... to do it with her?" she asked eventually.

He nodded and rubbed his eyes, like he was tired.

"She got a suspicion that it was the Commander who's sterile, since the first Offred didn't get pregnant. Then she thought that maybe she... she could still have a child, if it was with another man."

June moved away from her place by the counter and stood behind him, putting one hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently.

"I am sorry," she said barely audible. "This is messed up."

She thought it was only the women. Only the women had to suffer endless torture, continuous rape and being treated as a womb, not a person. Apparently some of this applied to men, too. At least this man.

"She... approached it in a way that if I said no, she would report me a gender traitor," he continued with a deep sigh. "I haven't been working for them for too long at the time and I needed to gain their trust. You know I've been spying on them that whole time, right?" he asked, glancing at her briefly. June nodded, and he continued. "So it wouldn't make sense for me to say no the second time she asked. Although this time she wasn't asking for herself..." he dropped his head on the table, hiding his face.

"I don't blame you," June said reassuringly. "Sounds like both of us just had to do what we had to do to survive in that place. What do you think it is, anyway? Future?"

He looked up at her, his face unreadable.

"No. We wouldn't have met then." he said grimly. "I think it's hell."

June bit her lower lip and moved to sit at the table next to him. This was a legit theory, she thought, only some of her dreams did not fit.

"I don't think you can have multiple orgasms in hell," she said with a little smile, one particular memory coming up in her mind.

His dark eyes pierced through hers. She felt his leg bouncing up and down under the table nervously.

"And I am not talking about the Commander of course," she clarified, in case there was any confusion. She held his gaze, feeling the energy change around them. Charged, heavy. Her eyes wandered down from his eyes to the mole on his right cheek to his upper lip and she couldn't help wondering what it'd be like to kiss it freely, in daylight. His brows furrowed, as if reading her thoughts, he turned his head to the side, a slight hint of disapproval in his eyes. She couldn't help it though.

"I think...", she started in low voice, "There is a reason why we met in the dream. And in real life."

"Yeah? Like what?" he studied her face intently.

June shrugged her shoulders.

"Dunno. But I want to find out." She moved closer to him, her shoulder touching his. She felt him shiver slightly and take a deep breath. His hand was on the table top, playing with the corner of her placemat.

"Where is your husband?" he asked, his eyes darker than ever, serious.

"Fucking his ex-wife, I presume," June answered and with that his lips were on hers, kissing eagerly. She moved up from her chair, turning fully towards him and wrapping her arms around his neck. He got up, too, backing her into the table, deepening the kiss. She stood on her toes, moving up to sit on the table top, and scooted back, spreading her knees to allow him to stand between her legs. Pulling him closer, she ran her hands up and down his back, feeling his muscle shift as he moved his hands from her face to her waist and lower back.

She shivered as his lips moved from her mouth to the cheekbone, down to the underside of her ear and covered the side of her neck with kisses. June felt the knot in her lower belly grow bigger, pulsating with desire. She buried her hands in his hair, thick and curly, dark with few grey strands. His lips traced her collarbone slowly, from one side to another, and a few new memories rushed through her mind. Kisses, mostly, like the one they just shared. Glances. Gentle touches of fingertips. Stolen glances. Clothes, scattered on the hardwood floor of his apartment. His mouth on her. Everywhere. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold on to the feeling these memories brought. She couldn't quite name it yet, but his presence and his closeness brought it back, with a whole new force tonight. She felt her nipples tingle, yearning to be touched, and she grasped his hand hurriedly and moved it to her breast. As if waiting for this prompt, Nick ran his thumb over one of her hardened peaks and she gasped, pushing her knees together and by that, pulling him closer between her legs. His mouth was on hers now, lips soft, yet hard at the same time, moving confidently, caressing her lips with light touches of tongue, as if checking if it was also okay. She opened her mouth wider and found his tongue with hers, another wave of arousal running through her body at the touch. Both of his hands explored her breasts through the thin soft fabric of her t-shirt. Desperately wanting to be closer, she ran her hands down and under his own shirt,feeling the warm tender skin on his lower back. She felt how aroused he was, too, pressing firmly against the fabric of his jeans, so her hands found their way to the front to unbuckle his belt.

It happened naturally, as if they've done it many times. In fact, that's exactly how it was. Perfectly in tune with each other, their bodies moved on their own accord. Both pairs of their pants ended up on the floor under the table, June took her t-shirt off, exposing her naked breasts. Nick froze for a second, admiring her beauty, before lowering his mouth to her chest, her nipples, and eventually down to her navel and lower. Her head fell back involuntarily, overcome with pleasure, she lay flat on the table, her head next to the salt and pepper shakers she put there before having lunch. Nick propped his knee on one of the dining chairs as he lowered his head between her legs, took off her silky underwear and explored just how turned on she was with his lips and tongue.

Twice. On the table. Then once again on the couch. One time for him there, too.

Just as good as she remembered. Only better, cause this time it was real.


End file.
